Free A Quill Ladder by Jennifer Ellis

had vanished, replaced by a faraway look of grim worry.
    She could have sworn that he had said yet under his breath.
     
    *****
     
    The women and the two men had now moved in front of the map and were pointing at the area on Coventry Hill where the stones were. They were speaking in low voices among themselves while Dr. Ford continued to talk to Mark in pacifying tones. Mark was quite certain he heard the woman say the words “ wormhole ” and “ Quentin, ” and then he realized that Dr. Ford was no longer speaking and was staring at him with scrunched-up eyebrows.
    “ Do you think that is an appropriate plan, Mark? ” The inflection in Dr. Ford ’ s tone had slipped from placating to impatient.
    Mark started to nod, but realized he had no idea what Dr. Ford was talking about. He searched for some acceptable reply.
    Dr. Ford leaned closer until his face was only about a foot from Mark ’ s — which very nearly caused Mark to throw his hands over his face and duck — and said with extreme exaggeration, as if Mark were deaf, “ I said, do you think that is an appropriate plan to call Marian, Ms. Beckham, to come and pick you up? ”
    Relief at the prospect of not having to take the bus again flooded through Mark, even though Dr. Ford ’ s face remained far too close to his. He hadn ’ t even considered the possibility that he could call someone for help.
    Mark nodded carefully. He wanted Dr. Ford to call Ms. Beckham (it was helpful when other people called her Ms. Beckham, as it helped him to remember). “ I need the map, ” he repeated.
    Dr. Ford smiled again and glanced over his shoulder at his visitors. “ I understand that. But I ’ m in the midst of a very important meeting, and I don ’ t have time to go and photocopy the map section by section. Come back tomorrow, and I ’ m sure we can work something out. ”
    The prospect of riding the bus, of waiting in the hall, of dealing with this intolerably uncomfortable situation again, was too much, and Mark started shaking his head, first fractionally and then in an agitated manner. He needed the map now .
    Dr. Ford ’ s eyeballs went all bulgy and a deep crease formed between his eyes. “ I ’ m just going to call Ms. Beckham now, ” he said loudly, rising from the edge of his desk.
    Mark continued to shake his head.
    The woman detached herself from the group and approached Dr. Ford. She scrunched her eyebrows and lips all together when she looked at Mark. “ What ’ s wrong with him? Is he slow? ” she said in a low voice.
    “ No, it ’ s fine. He ’ s fine, ” Dr. Ford said. “ I ’ m handling it. Mark is going to go home. ”
    “ Well, handle it, or we will, ” she said. The harshness in her voice almost made Mark pause, but he couldn ’ t stop shaking his head.
    Dr. Ford glanced back at Mark, then at the map, and then he strode over to one of his filing cabinets. He unlocked it with a key from around his neck, withdrew a green file folder, closed the drawer, and returned to Mark.
    “ Why don ’ t you take this for now? These are copies of older maps of Coventry Hill. They ’ re all I have right now. Take them and go home. I need to get to my guests. ” Dr. Ford gave Mark a weird look and jutted his head in the direction of the woman and two men, as if Mark should understand what he was saying.
    The solidity of the file in Mark ’ s hands jolted him out of his spiral. He opened the folder. It contained three old maps of the Coventry Hill area. Maps that reflected pre-modern cartography techniques. Maps like none he had ever possessed before. He drew the folder closed and looked around the room to where everyone watched him with various degrees of what he assumed was repulsion and impatience. He rose from his seat carefully, collected his satchel, and then tried not to run for the door.
    Out in the hall, Mark turned down the corridor and bolted as fast as he could go.
     
    *****
     
    Ian stood by the curb at Mrs. Forrester ’ s,